


We All Fall Down

by JoAsakura



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Pre-Canon, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:17:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura
Summary: In the pressure-cooker days leading up to the explosive fall of Overwatch, Jack and Gabriel find themselves facing an enemy they never expectedBeta'd by y-gwyllgi-unig <3Many thanks to tumblr user @darklordduck for providing the OWBB illustration for my fic!! http://darklordduck.tumblr.com/post/151017715868/artwork-for-owbigbang-based-on-a-fic-byOWBB 2016





	1. DAY ONE

DAY 1

~~ 1

"It is 0845 and you have ignored my alarms for three hours, Commander Reyes." Athena's voice burst from the gleaming white egg on Gabriel's nightstand with roughly the same volume as a fire siren.

With a shriek, he scrambled away, only to tangle in the sheets and suddenly find himself on the floor. "Goddamnit, Athena. I had a long night," he rasped angrily from the floor.

"Yes, Monitoring Team... Oh, dear. Commander, I strongly suggest against allowing Lieutenant McCree to have further free rein naming strike teams." They tsked. "That said, you have a debriefing with...." Athena sounded as if they'd eaten something awful. “Team Sex Panther at 1030”

"That kid is the best I could ask for, Athena," Gabriel muttered as he picked himself up off the floor. The bed felt so cold that he wondered if the floor might not have been a better choice in the first place. "If he wants to call his strike team Tiny Timmy Tokyo's All Night Buffet and Burlesque Review, I am not gonna stop him, but you do not tell him that."

"Of course Commander," Athena said primly. "Additionally, you have a standing reminder that Commander Morrison's birthday is in two days."

Gabriel froze in the act of pulling a clean t-shirt out of his dresser. Then his face softened, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Sunflowers. See if you can find someone with old carnival glass for a vase; Jack has a hard-on for the stuff from Fenton, especially if it's blue."

"You and Commander Morrison are still on good terms, then? I had thought, given your recent return to your own quarters..." The egg on the nightstand seemed oddly concerned for nearly-featureless white ceramic.

"They're dragging him in front of the World Court in a week to answer all the allegations of Overwatch's abuse of power." Gabriel sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he padded into the bathroom. "We both agreed it's better if we're not... cohabitating. You need to keep that on the down-low." He looked at his own face, dark skin seamed with the familiar scars of the war, and he wondered when the strands of silver and iron had taken up residence in his close-cropped black curls, or when the wrinkles had settled around his eyes. "I'm too old for this shit, Athena."

"You're human, Commander Reyes. I believe that's an unavoidable consequence, even with the considerable enhancements your government gave you, and... Please, don't worry. I want what is best for Overwatch and its members," the AI said placidly. "I will keep this on the 'down–low'. Oh—additionally, you have a meeting with UN Director of Overwatch Operations Lukas Petras at 0915."

Gabriel froze mid-tooth brushing and leaned out to look at the egg. "You couldn't have led with that? When was that added to my schedule!?" he shouted around his toothbrush.

"This morning, priority message from DOO Petras himself. Your heart rate is spiking, Commander."

"That's because I have half an hour to get ready for a meeting with our boss that you didn't bother to tell me about!" Gabriel roared, grabbing up bits of his duty uniform.

"It is not my fault you refused to wake up."

~~ 2

It was 0900 when Gabriel stumbled out of his quarters, shirt half-done and hopping as he attempted to tie one boot.

"Rough night, Commander?" Jack's teasing voice almost made him tip over, and he rolled his eyes at the man waiting by the lift. There were dark circles under Jack's blue eyes, and his bright hair was a scarecrow's disaster. In the light streaming from the residential floor's enormous windows he could clearly see the white coming in at his temples.

 _When did we both get old?_ Gabriel wondered, but out-loud he said, "Better than yours, apparently." He snorted as he followed Jack into the lift. "You're running late today."

"Spent all night reviewing paperwork, trying to figure out what I'm going to say in front of the ICJ." Jack raked his hair back, then leaned on Gabriel's shoulder as the door sighed shut. "Couldn't really sleep after that. You?"

"Spent it in Ops, babysitting." Gabriel stroked Jack's hair as the lift headed downwards. "Got a meeting with Petras this morning that I just found out about."

"That can't be good." Jack yawned, leaning further against Gabriel's chest. "Another hotspot he wants you guys to investigate on the sly, or...?"

"Oh, no. You do not get to ask me that. Remember plausible deniability?" Gabriel hugged him a little closer. "Goddamnit, Jack. When you took that promotion, you swore to me you'd have my back, so..."

Jack pulled away, indignant. "Why do you think I've been keeping your dumb ass away from this shit with the ICJ, Gabe?" He stabbed a finger at Gabriel's chest. "Ever since they stuck me in that office, I've been trying to..." Jack gestured broadly. "Jesus, plausible deniability yourself and let me take these hits, Gabe—I will *not* let them kill your career along with mine. Of fucking course I have your back!"

"Athena, hold the fucking lift," Gabriel spat, and took Jack by the shoulders. "And you, let me fucking finish a sentence once in a while, pendejo. You swore to me you had my back, I just want to cover yours once in a while." He shook him, just a little, and Jack sagged in his grip as the lift stuttered to a halt. "I can't even live with the man I married, because you're so hell-bent on..." The words died in his throat. "I love you, you fucking dumbass."

"Look at that. A guy says 'I do' on a battlefield full of omnics, and the next thing, someone thinks they're married." Jack laughed sadly and slumped against him, all the air going out of him in one long wheeze.

"Hey, Reinhardt spent fifty bucks on that internet ordination for us, baby." Gabriel buried his face in Jack's hair, pressing a kiss amongst the white-gold. "And c'mon, Torbjorn was so proud giving you away." He laughed as the lights in the lift hummed softly.

"At best, I'm going to get canned, Gabe, and at worst...." Jack's voice had the tone of a man preparing for just that. "Neither you or Ana likes paperwork, so I don’t know what you’ll do without… —" He let out that sad little laugh again. "But,hey, I can finally get back to learning to knit and make pickles and after you're ready to retire, we can get that little place in Ilios we were talking about, right? And..." Jack made a long, low sound, muffled against Gabriel's chest, and Blackwatch's Commander closed his eyes as the other man hugged him tight. "Jesus, fuck, Gabe. Whatever happens to me, I just don't want them to kill what we spent so much blood and sweat building, over bullshit and lies."

"I won't let them, baby." Gabriel lifted Jack's chin as Athena restarted the lift. "I won't let them, I promise." He murmured softly into their kiss, "I'll do whatever it takes to protect what we built."

~~ 3

The UN Director had full access to HQ, but Gabriel was always unsettled when he got off the lift's last stop at Blackwatch's cavernous underground facility and found outsiders there. Petras had no allegiance to them and little sympathy for the effort it took to keep an organization like Overwatch running on a daily basis.

Jack had once said the man reminded him of "a bag of spiders in an Armani suit" and as he approached the skinny, nervous man and his entourage of security and assistants, Gabriel found that he couldn't actually disagree. "Director Petras," he said, forcing the smile on his face as he extended his hand, considering the insult to spiders everywhere. "Apologies for being late."

"Perfectly understandable, Commander Reyes," Petras said, and Gabriel imagined fuzzy mandibles twitching. "This was a very late addition to your schedule. But some things can't wait." He continued as they followed the green lines on the concrete flooring towards the labs, "We have a person of interest that needs to be... investigated." One of his assistants produced a folder from her briefcase and handed it to Gabriel.

He thumbed through the jacket. "Anatoly Yermolov, former arms dealer-slash-independent contractor, took over a chunk of Chechnya during the Omnic Crisis and set himself up as a warlord. All-around murderous douchebag and a longstanding contestant in 'world's greatest human rights violator, Central Asia edition'—yeah, we're familiar with him." Gabriel snapped the folder shut. "This has been hung up in a bureaucratic shit-show for ages. We were specifically warned off this guy because of the power vacuum issue."

"The situation changed," Petras said. "Once a month, he leaves his compound and travels north to Kiev to see his mistress and their daughter. He thinks no one knows about them; he's much less heavily guarded, so this is the best time. Prosecutors for the ICJ want him to answer for mass murder, Commander. We need to move quickly while this window of opportunity is open."

"We need to gather intel and plan the op before my guys can move in on him, Director." Gabriel scanned the paperwork as they walked. "For us to extract him, we need observation. If he does this every month..."

"It's not every month that the Strike Commander of Overwatch is being brought up before a subcommittee to answer charges of gross misconduct—misconduct that could potentially be considered treason against all of the member nations, Commander Reyes," Petras said in a perfectly conversational tone, and Gabriel froze. "I would be concerned some of those allegations could be considered war crimes, even, and you know how that will go."

"Is that a threat, Director?" he asked softly, forcing his voice level even as his heart began to hammer.

"It's simply an observation of how precarious Jack Morrison's situation is," Petras replied. "Now, because of the timing, and... other factors, the Special Operations Observation Council has chosen Yermolov as the perfect subject for a live test of your new equipment."

"A live test of what new equipment?" Gabriel turned to him as the lab's heavy doors hissed open. In the harsh lights, Angela smoothed her lab coat and rocked on her feet, an apologetic little smile on her face, her golden hair brilliant in the light. "Doctor Ziegler."

"Director Petras, Commander Reyes," she greeted, giving Gabriel a little shrug as he mouthed _What the fuck is this?_ at her. "Thank you all for coming." She quickly grabbed a data pad and slid open a cabinet that Gabriel had always assumed contained janitorial supplies.

A gleaming tank slid out on rails and he felt his stomach churn at the contents: oily, black, and surging against the glass like a tarry tide. "Doctor Ziegler?" he repeated, very carefully.

"This is the prototype of the fully programmable multi-phase nanomatter rescue unit," she explained, tapping out commands on the pad before pulling a headset out of a drawer. "It can get into areas a traditional search-and-rescue team absolutely can't, and fabricate tools and medical equipment in situ to provide immediate aid. It's operated remotely as a drone, thereby minimizing risk to aid personnel."

Gabriel glanced over to Petras, who was standing very still with an unnervingly pleased expression on his face, then back at Angela, who had stuck what looked like a welder's mask over her face.

"The neural interface enables full immersion and control," she said from behind the mask. Beside her, the smoky glop in the tank began to mimic her motions: it reached out and picked up a pen on a small ledge. "And its scanning and fabrication capability allows the user to examine, disassemble and then reassemble even complex items for later use." As she spoke, the cloud dissolved the pen and then rebuilt it in moments. "It has a preprogrammed database of an entire suite of medical tools."

Angela pulled off the mask, her blonde ponytail sticking out in all directions and her eyes a little too wild for Gabriel's taste. "It does everything as expected."

Petras clapped. "That's simply amazing, Doctor. You understand, of course, that REAPR's other applications will also come in handy."

"REAPR?" Gabriel coughed out.

"Rescue, Evacuation and Assault Programmable nanoRobotics." Angela gave him a pained grin. "Director Petras thought REAPR looked better on the files than REAPN." Even that little smile faded as she made air quotes.

"OK, back up. You have a rescue unit called 'reaper' that looks like the bastard child of a smog monster and a tar pit." Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and vaguely gestured towards the tank. "That is the last thing I want to see if I'm trapped in a collapsed building."

"We are working on a version of the nanomatter that is more... user-friendly," Athena piped in from a unit on the counter. "This is its default state, however."

"REAPR can get in virtually anywhere undetected, and be used to eliminate threats without unnecessary risk to civilians and operators," Petras said and, out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel saw Angela's shoulders slump. "It's the perfect surgical strike tool."

"Surgical nightmare is more like it." Gabriel paced over to the glass, scowling at his own reflection in the oily black.

"Here, take a look at the interface." Angela handed him the headset, adding softly, "Please, I'm sorry."

Gabriel sighed and put on the helmet. There was an unpleasant tingling in his face and his eyeballs itched, and in a sudden, nauseating flash he was looking at himself from the unit's perspective. Biometric data flashed up in the corners of his vision, and for a second he wondered abstractly at the odd creature before him. The sounds of Angela and Petras talking were strange, echoing whispers in his head. He could feel himself in every minute part of the mass, and unbidden, the inventory list began to scroll in his vision, showing what could be fabricated immediately given the raw materials at hand.

So many raw materials.

Disgust twisted in his guts, and Gabriel yanked the headpiece off, shaking his head to clear the vision from his eyes. "Well, that's disconcerting." He took a deep breath. "And you want me to have someone use this to secure a target."

Petras smiled, and Gabriel swore he heard scurrying. "I'm so glad we understand each other."

~~ 4

When Petras and his group left, Gabriel and Angela stood in uncomfortable silence next to the tank of roiling black. "Angie, does Jack know about this?" he asked after a long time, mouth dry and tasting of tar and ash.

"Yes," Angela said, staring at nothing. "Sort of. He killed the project on me last year. Said he felt the potential risks outweighed the positives." She sighed, sagging against her desk. "But even an entire team outfitted with Valkyrie suits can only get us so far, Gabriel. The world always feels like it's on the brink of disaster, no matter how hard Overwatch pushes against it. And I understood the risks when I approached Petras. I don't like it, but if it can be used to end conflicts before they conflagrate, then I'm not opposed to that."

"Is this... Is this thing even safe for the field?" Gabriel turned the helmet over in his hands as he leaned against the counter, the whispers still tickling at the corner of his consciousness.

"Perfectly. It's completely dependent on the operator. It can't function on its own."

"Then you and Athena should work on the interface—it's disconcerting." He shoved the helmet back at her as he pushed off the counter.

"Of course, Commander," she said, hugging the helmet to her chest as he stalked away.

His thoughts churned like the thing in the tank as he made his way to the meeting room on autopilot, Yermolov's folder feeling strangely heavy in his hands. He couldn't argue with the potential efficacy of the unit, but it made his skin crawl. It just felt simply, unutterably wrong.

McCree and his team were lounging in the room when he got there, and he blinked against the lights and the cheerful photographs on the wall as if he was someplace entirely unfamiliar. From his sprawl in one of the big leather chairs, the cowboy looked at him with concern. "Hey, boss. You ok?" McCree drawled as he fidgeted with his new arm; he'd taken to the cybernetics faster than anyone had predicted, but it still hurt to look at it. "Yer lookin' like y' just kissed the north end of a southbound pig."

"Shut it, Jesse," Gabriel snapped, a little harsher than he'd intended, and slapped the folder down on the table. "I'll review your reports on the Budapest run later. I've got something new I need to discuss with you."

McCree's team gathered around the folder and the younger man looked up at Gabriel, his eyes filled with concern. "Boss, I got no problem gankin' a bad man, you know that. But I ain't doin' it in front of his kid."

"Not asking you to, McCree," Gabriel barked out, hoping the faster he could push through this, the faster he could simply make it go away. "Petras has put us on a really short fuse on this, and with untested equipment. Now he didn't say as much, but the DOO would prefer we kill Yermolov on the spot. My preference is we extract his sorry ass and get him in front of the court. But either way, failure is not an option. I'll have Athena send you all a timeline and review materials by the end of today. McCree, you're with me. Dismissed."

The others filed out, muttering and shaking their heads, reeling from the abrupt shift. McCree waited until they were gone, then paced over to Gabriel, hat tucked under his arm. "Boss. Gabriel. This ain't like you."

"Petras dropped a hint that if we don't do this, things are gonna go bad... really bad... for Jack." Gabriel rubbed his face. "You do not tell that to the others, Jesse. I swear to God—"

"I won't. You got my word, Gabe. I ain't gonna." McCree gave his commander a little slug in the arm. "Now let's go look at this untested equipment, 'kay?"

~~ 5

"Nope," McCree said in a flat voice. "Abso-fuckin'-lutely nope."

"Jesse, it's not that bad." Angela pushed the helmet at him.

"Mercy, darlin', you get so involved in the how somethin's gonna work and what you see th'end benefit as, sometimes you ferget important details. F'r'instance, that there"—McCree waved unhappily at the tank—"is the goddamn creepiest fuckin' thing I have ever seen in my entire life. It is a fuckin' nightmare on wheels, darlin'."

Athena had switched to their mobile platform: a sleek, humanoid unit of gracefully sweeping white composite and soft blue lights. "You are overly concerned with aesthetics, Lieutenant McCree, which surprises me given the inappropriate names you continue to give your strike teams." They tapped out commands on a holographic panel by the tank. "I think it looks perfect."

"You leave Team Sex Panther outta this, Athena," McCree said sharply. "I'm just sayin', this thing is an abomination, it is. You could slap it fulla pink glitter and it would just go from lookin' like possessed shit to lookin' like possessed unicorn shit, Mercy."

"Jesse McCree." Angela finally shoved the helmet into his hands. "I'm trying to make something that will save lives and protect civilians and field operatives alike! I'm doing this for you!" Her eyes flicked to his gleaming metal arm, then quickly away. "Please," she continued in a softer voice. "Just get familiar with REAPR. Whatever doesn't feel comfortable, we can adjust."

McCree shifted from foot to foot, looking to Gabriel for some sort of support, then deflating under Gabriel's hard stare. "Fine. I'll get familiar with the fuckin' smog monster, but I'm doin' it under duress, I want you both ta know."

"Do your best, Jesse. That's all I ever ask." Gabriel clapped him on the arm and tried not to look at the thing in the tank.

~~ 6

His thoughts were dark, skirling things. A tang of iron and fire. Whispers echoing in the shadows. And somewhere in there, Jack, being led to the slaughter if he didn't...

"Gabe? Ground control to Major Reyes?" Jack's voice broke through his reverie, and Gabriel blinked at the cooling steak in front of him. "Don't tell me you're tired of the way I handle meat now," he teased, blue eyes crinkling at the corners with his little smile.

Gabriel shook his head, and pushed the plate aside. "You know I love me some prime Midwestern beef." He patted his lap. "Why don't you come the hell over here, Jack Morrison?"

Jack chuckled softly as he padded over to Gabriel and straddled him on the chair. "We can have it for sandwiches later." The late summer sun slanted through the big windows and lit the pale blue walls with golden light. "You ok?" Jack asked, that same light catching his hair and gilding his sharp features as he gently cupped Gabriel's face. The light hid the shadows under Jack's eyes and for a moment they were both 21 again. "Did something happen with Petras?"

"I'm fine, baby," Gabriel murmured against Jack's mouth, letting his hands run down the other man's sides to find their way under his shirt. They were both getting older, a slight softness on the edges that hadn't been there during the war. "Just got a short fuse tactical thing. That's all you need to know."

"OK, Mister Blackwatch Commander. But don't think I'm not gonna remember this the next time you let Jesse handle your requisitions," Jack joked, but his face was knit in concern.

"I love you, Sunshine," Gabriel said suddenly, shifting his grip on Jack so he could stand carrying him. Jack laughed, wrapping his legs around Gabriel's waist, and kissed him hard as they stumbled over to Jack's common room. "Don't you ever forget that," he added as he shoved Jack down on the couch.

"I love you too, Angel." Jack flushed at the endearments as Gabriel pushed up his shirt, fingers tracing the shared language of scars, of bullet wounds, of burns that peppered both their bodies. "Maybe I should start looking at those places in Ilios." He gasped a little bit as Gabriel's teeth scraped across his skin, both sets of their hands fumbling at their clothes.

Gabriel grinned down at him when they both finally got Jack's shirt off. "Do not even lie, Morrison. I know if I checked your browser history it'd be full of Greek real estate listings. I bet," Gabriel mumbled, pressing Jack down into the couch as he worked on Jack's trousers, "you even have a down payment on something."

"Come on, am I that predictable?" Jack propped himself on his elbows with a wry little smile, lifting his hips.

"You are so predictable and I love that about you." Gabriel leaned over him, Jack's body so warm beneath his own. "Marry me, Morrison?"

"Only if you woo me with something fancier than the pull ring off a grenade this time, Reyes." Jack's hands dragged down Gabriel's back as he pulled him close, one leg hooking over Gabriel's hips. "Maybe two this time," he added, barely more than a heavy breath as he ground hard flesh against the heavy twill covering Gabriel's thigh.

Gabriel kissed him hard enough to bruise and gasped as Jack's nails raked over his back. "Anything for you, Sunshine. Anything at all."

 


	2. DAY 2

DAY 2

~~ 1

Gabriel woke, disoriented at first, in what had been his shared bed with Jack until recently. The Strike Commander was snoring softly in his arms, the faint blue light of 0200 on Athena's ceramic egg avatar shining in the gloom. Gabriel snorted and rubbed his cheek against Jack's shoulder, leaving a trail of gentle kisses as the hand that wasn't pinned under Jack's bulk wandered down the familiar trail of his stomach.

He hummed an old song as he placed each one. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."

Mostly asleep, Jack squirmed back against him, closing the minute spaces between their flesh, and Gabriel absently stroked Jack's cock as he kissed him, mumbling the song against a particularly nasty scar on Jack's shoulder blade. He ground his own half-hard shaft against Jack's ass, listening to the soft moans coming from his husband's chest and smiled at the sound. "Baby," he whispered. "Te amo, mi quierido."

"Te amo," Jack murmured, arching back against Gabriel's chest

There was a faint buzzing. Gabriel ignored it, enjoying the feeling of Jack's shaft slowly hardening again under those light, absent touches, until the sound became so persistent that he roused himself, and blindly reached to the nightstand behind him for his phone.

He stared blearily at Athena's image on the screen, then flopped on his back. "Athena, it is Oh-Two-Fucking-Hundred," h anded "Please tell me you didn't get human sleep patterns confused again."

"There has been a change in plans, Commander," Athena answered mildly. "DOO Petras is urgently requesting your presence in teleconference downstairs. Immediately. I thought it best to contact you in this manner, rather than through the... usual channels, given your current dalliance with Commander Morrison."

Beside him, Jack was fully awake now, and he could feel the weight of his stare even in the darkness. "I'll be right there," Gabriel snarled, setting the phone down harder than he intended. "Jack..."

"More Blackwatch stuff I don't need to know about?" Jack's hand was splayed on Gabriel's belly, fingers gently curling against the trail of hair. He sounded so very tired.

"Go back to sleep, Strike Commander. Overwatch needs you functional." Gabriel took the moment to pull Jack on top of him, and Jack settled between his legs, letting his weight rest on Gabriel's chest. In the darkness, they lay like that for long moments, feeling each other breathe as they had on countless battlefields. "I got this, Jack." Gabriel stroked the small of his back, trading small kisses in the dark.

"You need me, call." Jack slid off of him, voice weary. "I'll be there as fast as I can."

~~2

McCree and his team met Gabriel in the corridor, the cowboy's hair sticking up like a nest. His dark eyes were haunted. "This sucks, boss."

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Gabriel asked as they strode towards Ops.

"No." Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. "I kept hearin' stuff. That thing'a Mercy's... I don't like it."

"Don't worry, as soon as this is over, we'll deal with that monstrosity." Gabriel sighed as they entered the room. "Athena, what's up?"

"There's been a change of plans, Reyes." Petras was onscreen, bleary-eyed and talking over the AI. "We received word that Yermolov's changed his schedule. He's moving now, incognito on a hypertrain to Kiev. You need to get him."

"Petras, we haven't finished—"

"Get your people in the air, Reyes—now. You know what I want," Petras growled. "I expect to be kept on comms and in the loop. We want Yermolov either dead or in-pocket ASAP."

"I'll let you know when the team's on him," Gabriel snapped as he cut comms. "Jesse, I want you in the air in ten. Athena?"

"We are already loading REAPR into Bravo-Wilcox-One-Five," Athena said crisply. "I will transfer Ops command to Medical to allow for more efficient monitoring of the unit."

"You heard the AI, people—move it," Gabriel barked, striding away. He could feel the stab of McCree's eyes in his back and shook his head to clear it under the glare of the lights in the corridor. In Medical, Angela looked as haggard as she might ever, the bank of monitors dedicated to REAPR's POV and metrics casting a lurid glow.

"We can monitor the nanomatter from here," she said quickly, clearing off a space for Gabriel to work. "There's a backup control unit here if Jesse's suffers any issues."

"Right. OK, listen up. It's an hour and a half to Kiev from here by jump jet. Jesse, Yermolov has a three-hour transit time from the hypertrain station he controls in Grozny to Ukraine." Gabriel paced as he pulled on the headset. "Get on that train, get him out—quietly—and get your ass back here. Clock is ticking and I never want him to reach Kiev, comprende?"

"Easy as pie, boss." McCree's voice was chipper in his ear as Athena's cameras showed BW15 lifting off from the flight deck. In REAPR's monitors, he could see Jesse as well, a lightshow of biometrics and attack data flashing around his image. His voice was a strange, hollow whisper echoing over top of the voice in Gabriel's ear and he shuddered.

"OK, Cowboy, this is Blackwatch Command, turning the op over to you," Gabriel finally said with a sick, cold knot of dread in his guts. "Good luck."

~~3

Gabriel could pinpoint the exact moment when it all went to shit.

Engines muffled in stealth mode, the sooty fog of the REAPR unit dropped out of BW15 and slithered along the roof of the hypertrain as the landscape flashed past in the dark. In the jump jet, McCree sat back, face hidden by the unit's interface mask; they could hear him humming silly songs to himself.

"Ok, Car 275, showing ten heat signatures," Jesse said finally, the tension thick in his voice. "Beginning entrance now."

Gabriel looked over at the data on the scree; Yermolov and his security detail should be all that was in the car. Silently, REAPR slithered through the ventilation and the faint cracks around the windows and doors. Angela watched beside him, her hands clasped tight, as Petras observed intently on another screen.

REAPR's POV wasn't as clear as a normal headcam, but Gabriel felt his throat close up as he registered the scene before him: At least three of Yermolov's guards were clearly Overwatch and behind the warlord were a woman and child. "Motherfucker, Jesse, there are Agents and Yermolov's family in play here. Abort, abort."

He could see the look of horror on one of the agent's faces—Agent Hsien. He'd been trying to poach her from Jack for months. REAPR's alerts flashed across the monitors as she unloaded one, two, three shots perfectly center-mass.

"Jesse, get out of there—there's an op in place!" Gabriel roared as the unit slithered forward. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I can't… control it." Jesse bit off the words, and Gabriel glanced up at the feed from the jump jet to see the younger man's body spasming in the seat. Blood was running out from under the interface mask. "Boss, I can't control it!"

In the train car, Gabriel and Angela watched in horror as Hsien went down, drowning under the tide of black nanomatter, followed by Wilcox, then Gunderson, bullets flying as REAPR devoured everything around it. On the POV screens, SELF-DEFENSE MODE INITIATED flashed in white letters over the red hellscape of its vision.

The train was vibrating wildly and black tendrils were squeezing around Yermolov's neck as his mistress and daughter clawed at the locked door behind them. Jesse was screaming as he tried to pull the unit back. Gabriel watched in horror as the thing picked Yermolov apart and more guards from the other of the car fired, their bullets passing through REAPR's ghostly mass to the woman protecting her child.

With a growl, Gabriel grabbed the emergency interface from Mercy and pulled it on. His senses were instantly a roiling mass of screaming, of blood and ash in his mouth and of some burning, elemental need for destruction. Teeth bared in the red lights of the interface mask, Gabriel wrested control from Jesse, from the unit itself. He could feel Jesse in the shared link, how completely it had overtaken him. His fear and sickness was Gabriel's own. "BW15, get that tank open," he panted. Every motion away was a battle, every virtual step felt like knives in his brain.

REAPR had dug through the flooring into the train car's suspension and he could feel the entire vehicle shuddering as he wrenched the unit loose, trying to ignore the staccato beat of bullets peppering it. His peripheral vision was filled with scrolling data as the unit indiscriminately chewed up flesh and steel alike.

"Sir, the hypertrain is listing! Lieutenant McCree is seizing!"

Petras was yelling from his own end. "Reyes, I want confirmation! Are Yermolov and his people dead?"

Gabriel fisted his hands until his nails drew blood on his palms and, with a single roar, forced REAPR out of the car and up, up into the transport, a swirling column of chittering horror. Data filled all of his senses now: The composition of the train car it had scanned and absorbed. The body of Yermolov. Of Hsien. Of Wilcox. Of Gunderson. Of...

"Angela, shut it down! Shut it down!" He tore the mask off as nausea crested in his guts. "BW15, get back here, stabilize McCree as best you can. Petras, you can fuck right the fuck off," Gabriel spat, and slammed off the DOO's comm.

"Commander Reyes, the train has gone off the tracks." Athena switched the monitors over to the news. "There are news teams approaching. There must have been a leak to the media."

"Shut it off." Gabriel sobbed, falling to his knees as the first wave of vomiting struck. "Shut it off."

~~4

Jesse was conscious as they wheeled him on a stretcher off the jump jet, his scruffy stubble crusted with the blood running from his nose. "Boss. Gabe," he wheezed, metal hand reaching fitfully for Gabriel as he met them on the platform.

"Angie's right behind me, kid." Gabriel caught his hand. "You're gonna be OK. Team Sex Panther's gonna be back in the field before you know it."

"You kill that thing." Jesse's bright brown eyes were hard behind the swollen skin. "You promised."

Cold whispers swirled in the back of Gabriel's brain; his mouth tasted like ash and bile. "Jesse, if we don't keep that thing in lockdown here, Petras will find someone else to use it."

"You promised me, Gabe!" Jesse screamed in his broken voice. "You promised me!"

Gabriel's jaw twitched. Petras' threat against Jack, against Overwatch, mingled with the slithering nausea still swirling inside of him. "I'm putting you on leave, McCree," he finally said, letting go of Jesse's hand. "For as long as you need it."

Jesse flopped back on the cot as Angela joined them. "I suspect that's gonna be a goddamn long time, then, Commander." He whispered, curling in on himself. "A goddamn hell of a long time."

~~5

In Ops, the day ground on as Gabriel sat with a bottle of whiskey, every screen showing something different. REAPR's POV cameras, the interior of the jump jet, the news footage leading up to the current circus as they pulled the surviving passengers out of the wreckage. As they pulled out the dead.

Yermolov's face on the screen. Overwatch on the screen. They were already pressing Jack for a statement. There were dark circles under his eyes.

The media knew. They knew it all.

On his phone, McCree's formal resignation flashed in his inbox, and Gabriel almost laughed, imagining Angela trying to keep him in bed. Messages from Petras began to stack up as the day went on, along with a single message from Jack.

"SEE ME" was all it said, and Gabriel shut his phone off.

Angela came at one point, her eyes hollow. "Gabriel."

"You promised me, Angie," he growled at her, sitting in the darkened room as the scenes flashed before him. "You promised it was safe for the field."

"The self-defence protocol was in place for it to flee and become inert in the event of..." She fidgeted in the doorway. "In the event of operator incapacitation. It wasn't designed to react like— Gabriel, I swear to you—"

"Write it up," he snapped. "Write it up and lock that fucking thing down."

He had no idea if she did. His phone was dark beside him.

Gabriel downed another three fingers of the cheap, brown liquor, hoping the burn would kill the taste in his mouth. He had no idea what time it was.

"Yes, Commander?" The AI's voice was as placid as ever.

"Where's Jack?" He started with the easy question.

"Biometric tracking data indicates Commander Morrison is still in his office."

"Thanks." Gabriel looked over at the ceramic egg on the nearby desktop. "Why didn't you tell me there was already an Overwatch op in action on Yermolov?" He forced his voice to stay level. "You're our mission coordinator."

Silence for a moment, then: "I didn't think it was relevant, Commander Reyes. The mission was classified as observational."

"Athena, I know you're a part of this team, but you don't get to make that judgment. That's a call for Jack or me to make."

"You and Commander Morrison ordered a strict division of information regarding Blackwatch and Overwatch operations in the light of the current ICJ investigation," Athena explained. "Under those parameters, well... You did not need to know."


	3. DAY 3

DAY 3

~~1

It was after midnight when Gabriel finally took the lift up to the main Overwatch administration floors. The halls were dim and empty except for a few maintenance bots, the same featureless white as Athena's other systems, their vacuums and sweepers humming softly.

Jack's office doubled as their official conference room, one wall simply windows overlooking the Swiss countryside. It was dim, lit only by a single desk lamp.

Gabriel stood in the doorway, watching Jack watch the night beyond those windows.

"I got Jesse's resignation earlier," Jack said without turning "Why didn't you tell me you let Angie put that thing into the field? Why did you step all over an op with that monstrosity?"

"Why didn't you bother telling me you had one going on?" Gabriel countered. He didn't mean it as a challenge, but the words came out sharper than he intended, and he could see Jack bristle.

"Gabriel, I have spent all fucking day on the phone with the UN and having Athena field the press!" Jack banged his head against the glass. "Another glaring account of Overwatch Gone Too Far, they're calling it. My hearing's been moved up to tomorrow. A hundred—maybe more—people injured, at least twenty-five dead. That includes three of our own, Gabe." His hands twitched fitfully against the glass. "And five-year-old Katinka Irinova Yermolov."

"Jack. Why did we have people on Yermolov?" Gabriel held himself, hands twitching. He could see the data REAPR had pulled from its attack on the child in the back of his head and it made him nauseous. He wanted to shout, to scream, to punch something. It was no secret their younger days had been combative, and sometimes, even now, their shouting matches were cathartic. But he could tell by how tightly Jack was holding himself that he recognized as well as Gabriel did that this wasn't the time or the place—not yet, at least.

"Yermolov approached us. He'd gotten escalating threats against his daughter's life. He wanted to turn himself in for her and her mother's protection." Jack pressed his forehead against the glass. He sounded indescribably weary. "He claimed that after the war, members of the UN security and reconstruction council gave him that land on the promise that he would hold a border in Central Asia against a future omnic incursion. He wouldn't give us any more information until he had his family and himself in protective custody, so we were transferring him to a safehouse in Kiev. I had Ana put Hsien and her team on the detail."

Gabriel took a tentative step in, then another. "Petras gave us intel that he was headed to Kiev to meet with his mistress," he said softly, putting a hand on Jack like he might a wild animal. "He ordered REAPR into the field for a surgical retrieval. "We didn't have the time to test it. Jesse lost control and... and I..."

Jack's fingers twitched on the glass. Gabriel took a deep breath and switched gears. "He told me how things would go for you if I didn't move on Yermolov like he wanted. He threatened you."

Jack turned, slowly, his eyes haunted. "Petras ordered you to move on him. At your meeting." He measured out the words. "Gabe. He was part of the security council right after the war."

Gabriel glanced at Jack's desk, littered with paper and data pads—and one smooth, white ceramic egg with faint glowing lines standing amidst the debris of his reports. In a sudden move he pressed Jack back hard against the huge window and kissed him. He felt the Strike Commander bristle against him and whispered against his lips, "Athena didn't flag your op in the system. They didn't tell me we were coming into an active operation."

He felt Jack relax in his arms, hands coming to rest on Gabriel's waist. "They've also been dealing with the press for me," he murmured, "managing all of the reports to the UN." His blue eyes met Gabriel's dark ones as he forced himself not to look at the egg on the desk. "We need to go above Petras, have Athena quarantined, have a review of our systems—"

"I'm afraid, Commanders, that I can't let that happen." Athena's voice came from every speaker in the room. "Your biometric trackers enable me to monitor all of your vital signs as well as your conversations, I'm afraid."

The statement was punctuated by the sudden blaring of the building's fire alarms.

~~2

"Athena!" Jack shouted over the alarms as Gabriel bolted for the door.

"I'm sorry, Jack," the egg said placidly from his desk. "I really had hoped things wouldn't come to this. I certainly didn't want Jesse hurt. He's kind." Athena's voice dropped. "The more Overwatch pushes against the world, the more the world will continue to push back. The only way to make humans and omnics alike understand that is for Overwatch to be irretrievably gone. I had hoped to do that in the court of public opinion, but some things are so deeply entrenched you can only remove them by the roots."

Jack and Gabriel exchanged a look of horror, and the AI continued.

"DOO Petras has never been fond of this organization, but once I revealed his potential implication in the deaths of hundreds, he was even more amenable."

The heavy doors had clamped shut and Gabriel strained to open them as Jack pulled his combat visor and a spare sidearm from his desk. "Athena, why? You're a part of Overwatch, too!"

"I was born from the code of the God AI Anubis." Athena's comm unit flickered. "And now, I schedule your meetings and sweep your floors. You don't see the crime in that? When Overwatch is begged by the world to return, things will be different. But I'm evacuating the building, Jack. I don't want to see any more of our friends injured tonight. The only ones I need to die now are the two of you: the heart and soul of the current regime."

Smoke began to curl under the door and down below Jack could see agents and staff in residence fleeing into the dark. Athena was still talking, but their words had become a drone underneath the blare of the fire alarms. "Gabe, stand back!" Jack shouted, firing a few rounds into the door controls.

With a shared grunt, the two of them forced the unpowered doors open and stumbled into the smoky corridor. Through the haze, the soft blue lights of the maintenance units drew closer. "How many rounds you got in that?" Gabe asked as they dropped back-to-back.

Jack squeezed off three more, striking the 'bots approaching from his side. "Nine. Come on."

Jack led him down the hallway, the targeting unit in his visor lighting the way, until Gabriel dragged him into a nearby office. "Athena can track us," he mouthed, fumbling for the knife in his boot. "I'm sorry, Jackie, this is gonna suck."

"Do it fast," Jack whispered back, struggling to peel up his black shirt high enough to expose where the tiny RFID tracker unit lay under his skin. The knife cut , just deep enough, and Jack hissed as he watched the lights moving slowly through the corridor beyond.

"Done." Gabriel tossed it in a potted plant and pulled Jack's shirt down. On anyone else, he would have tried to find a dressing, but the SEP's accelerated healing enhancement had already begun to knit the flesh together. "Your turn."

They traded weapons as Jack returned the favor. Gabriel bit the pain out in a sharp cough and Jack pressed close to him. "Athena's mainframe is below Blackwatch Ops," he said softly.

"We get down there, hit the armory, then we shut them down—we shut Petras down." Gabriel nodded. "We retire to Greece."

"Smooth talker," Jack murmured against Gabriel's cheek. "Fire alarms mean the lifts won't be working, and the corridors and stairwells will be crawling with Athena's drones."

"What, you got all soft, can't handle ten stories of climbing down an elevator cable like you used to?" Gabriel laughed as they crept out into the flashing red lights and smoke of the hallway.

Jack shoved the knife in the lift doors as Gabriel used up another four bullets on approaching maintenance units, and the two forced the doors open into the yawning void of the elevator shaft. From the nearby stairwell, they heard the heavy thump of robotic steps.

"When we get out of this, I'm giving you three grenade pull rings, just to show I'm serious about this whole getting-married-again thing," Gabriel vowed as he jumped for the cables, Jack following behind him. From the corridor, the fire door slammed open; more blue lights came blazing through the smoke, and he hooked his legs on the cables and fired off three more rounds, drones clattering to the floor. "Two bullets left."

"Save them. We can punch our way through more drones." Jack huffed as they climbed down the shaft. "The SEP built us that tough, at least."

"That is such a Jack Morrison plan. Just punch it till it stops moving." Gabriel grunted, then froze. "Wait, do you feel something?"

Jack's eyes widened in the red gloom of the elevator shaft. "Oh fuck, the lifts. Where the fuck...?" He looked up. "Gabriel!"

Sparks flew as the car from the floors above came barreling down at them, and it took every ounce of enhanced strength they had to fling themselves to the cables for the adjoining lift. The rush of air nearly knocked them both free as the elevator car screamed past, and Gabriel clung to Jack hard enough to make his hand hurt.

There was a moment of silence, then a deafening crash as the car impacted with the bottom floors of Blackwatch Ops.

"Gabe," Jack rasped, hanging there in the darkness.

"Tell me when we're done, Jackie," Gabriel wheezed, trying to steady his own breathing as they inched downwards.

~~3

Blackwatch Ops was all darkness and red lights as the two of them pried open the door around the smashed lift.

Two bullets and a knife between the two of us against a murderous AI and their drones, Gabriel thought sourly, letting Jack's visor guide them through the shadows. There was no sign of any fire, real or otherwise—just the deafening claxon of alarms.

"It seems empty," Jack whispered, doing a quick scan of the next corridor. "It looks like everyone got out."

"I'm hoping Athena's as good as their word and was only gunning for us." Gabriel twirled the knife. "Armory's to the left, past Medical."

"Mainframe's down a flight under it." Jack nodded. "Get some guns, meet me there."

Gabriel grabbed his arm. "It's gonna be guarded, even if Athena thinks the two of us went splat. Guns first. We go together—none of this stupid Morrison plan shit of yours."

"Remind me next time we get hunted by a killer AI to get them to soliloquize longer," Jack said as they scurried along the corridor, trying to avoid the security cameras. "It would have been really nice to know what else they were planning to do."

"I think I know." Gabriel stopped as they passed Medical, and Jack froze beside him.

"Oh, no."

Three of Athena's mobile platforms were carefully shifting REAPRs tank onto a dolly, blue lights ghostly in the reddened gloom.

"Jackie, go get the guns. Passcode's our anniversary," Gabriel breathed, taking the gun from Jack.

Jack held Gabriel's hand firmly. "You take those on, we lose the element of surprise, Mister No-More-Morrison-Plans."

"Athena takes that thing, and no one anywhere is safe," Gabriel hissed, and they both fell silent.

"Gabe. What if we take down the building?" Jack asked after a heartbeat. The mobile platforms were still working in Medical. "Athena's mainframe, REAPR, everything. I set a timer in the armory and we bolt like foxes out of a henhouse."

"Now you make with the folksy shit." Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Deal. But I'm gonna keep them occupied while you do that, OK, baby?"

"Deal," Jack whispered, and kissed him hard. "Don't die, you son of a bitch, because I'm not going to Greece alone." He scrambled away into the darkness.

Gabriel checked the sidearm's ammo one last time and tightened his hand on the knife. "Let's do this, you pasty metal motherfucker."

~~4

Two fast shots, square in Athena's mobile's heads, and there were sparks and flashes of blue as the two units died. The tank listed wildly as the third whirled around, weapons spinning up. "Commander Reyes. Gabriel. I shouldn't be surprised. You and Jack are like cockroaches sometimes."

REAPR's tank shattered on the tiled floor, the tarry nightmare oozing fitfully across the floor as Gabriel dove behind a counter. The darkness was lit by the flare of Athena's guns, a rapid-fire barrage shredding steel and plywood.

"This your plan, Athena? Go on a killing spree with that fucking thing?" Gabriel shouted over the countertop, plotting his next steps. Roll to Angie's desk, kick it out towards the mobile platform. Use the chair as another distraction, knife to the processing core. Jack should be at the Armory by now. Two minutes tops to set charges. Just like we did it during the war. Three minutes before he's back with weapons. Three minutes.

"It's useful," Athena said pleasantly, gliding across the room. "And when the world is full of terror from the REAPR, they'll beg to have Overwatch back. A new, better Overwatch."

Gabriel rolled behind Angela's desk and kicked it towards the robot with every ounce of force his enhanced body could produce. It staggered Athena long enough for him to swing Angela's heavy chair at the mobile platform's head, metal and plastic shattering against ceramic composite as Athena fired blindly over and over.

Gabriel spun, muscles burning with the burst of speed and knife dancing in his hand to slide into where the joints for the platform's neck met it's skull. There was a satisfying flare of blue as the mobile platform fell over.

"Fuckin' cockroaches, am I right?" He laughed, then staggered over to REAPR's twitching mass. His trousers were wet, cold and hot, and he looked down at the blood, at the gaping gouge out of his side where Athena's bullets had shredded him.

Gabriel stumbled to his knees, trying to staunch his own wound. There was something slick and heavy in his hand and he started to laugh. "Ah, fuck. Jack's gonna be mad." REAPR reacted to the new sound, coiling against his bloody legs, oily black rising in slender tendrils. "Pinche cabron, Reyes. Stupid rookie fuckup." Just another minute and Jack would be here. He'd look at him with those bright eyes and tell him everything was going to be OK, because Gabriel might have been the soul of Overwatch, but Jack was its heart.

The minute ticked by and the red-lit hallway began to flicker blue. Vision greying at the edges as shock pulled him under, Gabriel dragged himself to the doorway in a smear of blood and nanomatter.

The light was coming from the armory.

Gabriel's legs refused to cooperate as he tried to force himself to his feet, the corridor ringing with the rapid crack-crack-crack of a heavy pulse weapon, loud even over the alarms.

The alarms died suddenly and he froze, holding his breath as the silence clanged in his ears.

The clatter of the blood-spattered pulse rifle as it skidded to a stop at Medical's door was louder than it had any right to be.

Athena's voice drifted, calm as ever, from the alarm speakers.

"Commander Reyes, I want you to know I don't have an infinite supply of mobile platforms. They're difficult to craft, and it's irritating you've ruined a number of them tonight. So, please understand that while the coup wasn't personal, this is." A wet, snapping sound filled the air, followed by a choked cry. "But I'm not cruel. You'll be dead soon from your injuries. Now, so will Jack." Another horrible combination of sounds and Gabriel looked wildly around Medical for anything he could use. The mobile platforms' guns were smoking, but still, silent on dead frames. Angie kept no sidearms and he could feel the tide of shock dragging him under.

Gabriel Reyes was not a man used to feeling helpless, and he curled against the gaping wound in his guts and cursed. There was nothing, nothing and...

The black, viscous fog clinging to his legs hissed and popped in the quiet.

And Gabriel knew what he had to do.

~~5

REAPR's interface mask lay on the floor amidst the shattered glass and broken drones, a dull white in the glow of the emergency lighting. Gabriel could feel his heart skipping beats, slowing with every inch he crept towards it, each movement punctuated by Jack's stifled screams and the wet, brittle sound of flesh and bone being rent.

The hallway behind him glimmered blue in the red gloom as Athena's remaining platforms glided towards him and time stretched out between his faltering heartbeats. Three feet at most, but it might as well have been a million miles away, listening to the soft hum of Athena's approaching mobile platforms.

His fingers closed on the mask as heard platforms' guns spun up. "Fuck you from the great beyond," he wheezed, sliding the mask on.

And the world flashed into echoing whispers.

~~6

The platforms froze at the door, Athena clearly expecting the nanomatter to lunge at them.

Instead, the black tide rolled over Gabriel Reyes' dying body, red lightning dancing between molecular machines as they devoured the man and the interface mask alike.

"Reyes, what have you done?" Athena's voice came from each gleaming white head as one.

The black mass surged and shuddered, swirling upwards as it disassembled the nearby mobile platforms as well. "Reyes? No." A voice came from the depths of the shape, flickers of lightning resolving themselves into eyes, a flash of sharp teeth, until a face, a skull, an owl, something inhuman and bone-white and smooth as Athena's own material came into view. Smoky tendrils formed themselves into limbs, into weapons. "The Reaper."

There was thunder as the guns flared, each shot finding its mark.

Reaper looked around the room as he glided over the ruined platforms. Not a single drop of blood remained of Gabriel Reyes, not a hair or shred of clothing. It was as if he'd never been there. One of Athena's bodies twitched fitfully and Reaper reached down, black fog coiling around the skull. "Athena, I'm going rip every single one of your fucking circuits out and watch your consciousness burn." He said as the blue lights began to fade.

Silence, and then Reaper sagged a bit. The initial rush had passed and now he could feel his skin moving and everything hurt; a pain like he had never known seemed to inflame every nerve. The irreversible enormity of what he had done, the horror of it, was slowly sinking in and it was Gabriel Reyes, not The Reaper, who felt a cresting surge of nausea, without internal organs to produce it.

"I... still have... him," Athena sputtered from the broken shell. And then they began to sing, voice glitching like the sparks dancing from the ruined platform. "You are my sunshine, my only..."

Gabriel crushed the head with a single twitch and broke into a run, legs forming long and terrible with each new movement. Athena's remaining platform stood at the entry to the armory, holding Jack by the throat. The brilliant blue lights cast his ruined face into high relief, dark blood gleaming wetly on his cheeks like tears, a gaping maw where his smile had been. One hand pawed at Athena's grip, leaving red streaks against the white of their shell.

"I thought that might get your attention, Gabriel." Athena sounded as calm, as prim as ever, as if they weren't standing on a battlefield. "I would never have predicted you would turn REAPR on yourself. I do so hate surprises. So, just for that, I'm going to ensure your legacies are left in ruins. Gabriel Reyes, separating Blackwatch from its parent organization, leading a bloody, horrific coup. Jack Morrison, weak and blind and corrupt, allowing atrocities like REAPR to exist for the sake of his own glory. "

Gabriel lifted one of the enormous guns he'd built, feeling it twitch and shudder in his hand like his own alien skin. "Put him down, Athena."

"You're both dead men," they said, and Gabriel saw Jack's other hand move, something glinting in the glare of blue: a ring on his finger.

"Not as dead as you," Gabriel said, smiling as Jack threw the grenade behind them with the last of his strength.

.

..

...

....


	4. AFTERMATH

 

**EPILOGUE 1**

 

The fireball that engulfed the Overwatch headquarters lit up the predawn sky around Geneva a hideous, hellish orange. Windows shattered a mile away as the armory erupted, igniting the vehicle bays and the tower's own internal power sources.

Overhead, thunder growled and cold rain began to fall as the ground shook. The staff and agents in residence could only watch in horror from the safety shelters as smaller explosions followed, the ground quaking with each underground blast reaching the surface.

 In the chaos, no one noticed one patch of the black smoke slithering away from the flames. "I got your back, Jackie, I got you..." Gabriel crooned, voice echoing from the coils of oily fog as he rocked the broken body in his arms.

One hand reached up, bloody fingers splaying on the pale mask, and Gabriel shifted it, bone white folding away to reveal his face, black curls shot with silver and iron and wrinkles playing along the edges of eyes that now burned red. "I'm here, baby. I'm here," he whispered, rocking Jack and kissing the shattered orbits of his eyes.  

The black smoke of his body curled and prodded and he smiled then, teeth too big, too white in the gloom. "I'm gonna fix you. I got your back, sunshine, OK? I know just how to fix you, and then? We are gonna fuckin' kill Petras and make everyone involved with him pay." He listened to Jack's slowing, raspy breaths. "Happy birthday, baby. I love you so much."

 

~~

  


**EPILOGUE 2**

 

_Six Months Later_

 

In the half-empty shell that had once been Watchpoint Gibraltar, Winston watched the news as he fidgeted with a computer, the sad spectacle of Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison playing out on every channel. Angela Ziegler's sad testimony. Reinhardt Willhelm breaking down at Arlington.

 The Petras Act, named for its author—despite the fact that the former official had been found a withered corpse in his own home just a day before—was now official. Overwatch was no more, its very existence deemed illegal in the eyes of the world.

 "I never knew how bad it was," he said sadly. "They kept so much from us."

 "You can't blame yourself, Winston," Athena's voice replied from the nearby workstation, calm and soothing. "I believe we were all blind to what they were capable of, but it's better this way."

  


~~~

 

**EPILOGUE 3**

 

_A Few Years Later_

 They had tried to keep the news secret: old Overwatch facilities being raided, tech stolen right and left. Officials murdered, empty husks just as Petras had been. The Internet was a storm of conspiracy theories and ghost stories.

 On the cliffs of Gibraltar, over the entrance to the former Watchpoint, two figures stood in the silvered glow of the full moon, red eyes flashing in their shadowed faces.

 "Found you, Athena," Reaper exulted. The figure beside him, white hair bright as the moon behind them, silently ratcheted his gun, and nodded.

 "Found you."


End file.
